The Landslide Series 3: The Weekend
by KSPretenderFan
Summary: Third installment of what I am going to call the Landslide Series. Follows Landslide (part 1), Plus One (part 2). Is normal possible for John & Zoe?
1. Friday

**Chapter 1: Friday**

"Make yourself at home, John," Zoe called out sardonically from the kitchen as she glanced into the living room to see John stretched out on the couch in his shirt sleeves and slacks, remote in hand, the very picture of relaxation.

After the week she just had, she had been looking forward to Friday night, hoping against hope that her phone would stay silent. Her free weekends were few and far between, but this one was shaping up to be one of them.

She had just taken a relaxing shower and had put on her most comfy pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a tank top. If any of her clients saw her dressed this way she would be mortified. Part of exuding power is dressing the part. Flannel pajamas did not say: "Listen to me; I know what's good for you." Flannel pajamas said: "Go away, leave me alone with my Ben and Jerry's."

"I will, thank you," he shot back giving her a small smile.

He looked the part of pure contentment. Biting her lip, she hesitated at the kitchen bar before entering the living room and handing him a glass of wine. She hadn't bothered asking him whether he wanted one or not. As he took it from her, he placed it on the coffee table. For some odd reason, she felt exposed and underdressed as she felt his eyes taking in her appearance.

Here she was, barefoot in a HER apartment, in her pajamas with her hair still wet from showering. And here he was, in just his dress shirt and trousers, lounging comfortably in the middle of HER sofa, his long legs vanishing under coffee table, crossing at the ankles. It all seemed so relaxed, so normal. Her stomach did a summersault.

Zoe drew a long sip of her wine then took a seat beside him, ignoring the impulse to sit at the far edge of the sofa, beyond the reach of his arm stretched out on the back of the couch. "Nice place," he said then leaned forward to pick up his glass with his left hand.

She watched intently as he took a sip of his wine, somehow mesmerized by the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallowed. It made her feel fidgety. Without a thought, she turned towards him, tucked her legs up under her, and leaned against the back of the couch.

"I'm surprised you haven't been in here, don't you normally go through the belongings of your cases?" she asked before taking another sip from her glass. She was, of course, referring to the first time she came into contact with John. He was acting as a body guard – driver.

"If you recall, I was driving you around. It was Finch who looked around in here." Jarod turned his head to meet her gaze.

"Oh God, please tell me he didn't go through my underwear drawer," she asked hiding her eyes with her hand.

"He said you didn't have any," he said, clearly teasing her.

She wasn't having any of it, "He did not . . . you jerk," she said and shoved him. John just laughed, grabbed her hand and held it.

"So, were you really just in the neighborhood?" Zoe asked referring to his unexpected appearance in front of her apartment building earlier in the evening.

John shrugged one shoulder. "I wanted to see how you were doing . . ."

"Um-hmm . . . John, it strikes me as unusual to be just in the neighborhood. You're either there for a purpose or you're not. Am I in danger again?"

"No."

"This isn't a booty call is it? I just saw you last night." She added with a smirk, though she wouldn't be opposed to some nighttime exercise.

"What? No."

"You, just wanted to what? Hang out?" She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"You have a problem with that?" He asked, raising a brow in return.

To be honest, she didn't have a problem with it. Ever since they reached an agreement on the new arrangement at the hotel, this thing between them settled down quite nicely. Knowing where the other stood, they had fallen into a comfortable relationship. They saw each other when their busy schedules allowed which wasn't as often as they had hoped. But their relationship was based on respect, admiration, and a mutual understanding of what each needed from the other.

It seemed to her that tonight, John just wanted company. And, like her plus one status, she didn't mind it at all. They were beyond the stage of wanting to go at it like bunnies, good lord, they were both well into their forties and sometimes, although the sex was amazing, sometimes it was okay just to "hang out".

Zoe felt her body slowly start to relax as she shifted to rest her head on his outstretched arm. She felt him gently remove her glass from her hand and set it on the table. He cupped her cheek and with his body in much closer proximity to hers, he leaned over and kissed her forehead.

* * *

"Jesus Christ, John, pick one already!" Zoe snapped after five minutes of unsuccessful channel surfing. John, on the other hand, just ignored her.

"Son of a . . ." she roared after a several more minutes. "Give me that!"

Zoe dove for the prized remote as John took evasive action and held it at arm's length so that Zoe was forced to reach across him to go after it. It was only when she found herself straddling his lap and could feel cotton against cotton that she realized she'd been had.

"Well, hello Zoe," he said with a devilish smile, handing her the remote.

Meeting his eyes, she raised her chin in defiance and narrowed her eyes. "Thanks," before climbing off his lap and settling next to him. She felt his arm on her shoulders and smiled as she took control of the remote.

* * *

"Did she just kiss him? What was that?" John mocked the TV screen.

Chuckling, Zoe replied, "Apparently, he thought the same thing. This show was great, I don't get why it got cancelled in the first place."

"Because it was so wrong, and I don't care that they actually filmed most of it in the actual offices of the CIA," John sneered.

"It's not that bad. And, how would you know how the real CIA works?" She challenged. At his lack of response and closed expression, she knew what he wouldn't confirm. That he knew how the CIA worked because he was once an operative.

"Besides," she continued, "I like AB, he's hot."

"AB, what kind of name is AB anyway."

"Who cares, he's hot." She teased.

"That's your type?"

"I don't have a type, I just like them hot." She claimed, adding a smirk and a sideward glance.

John leaned in to whisper in her ear, "You know, that Terri is kind of hot. She reminds me of someone. Hmmmm…" He added, wracking his memory bank trying to figure out who the actress reminded him of.

"Yeah, so let's change the channel shall we?" Zoe said, grinning impishly as she leaned forward to grab the remote.

"But . . ." John protested.

* * *

Zoe jolted awake to find that they had fallen asleep curled up on the couch. Good thing the couch was oversized; otherwise, they would both be feeling their ages. Picking up the remote that had fallen to the floor, she turned the TV off and gently shook John awake.

"John, honey, wake up. . . "

"Hmmrm"

"Sweetie, come on, let's move to the bed." She started to get up only to find herself being pulled down again.

"I'm fine right here," he grumbled as he maneuvered them into a more comfortable position.

"Oh fine," Zoe huffed, as she pulled the blanket that was draped on the back of the couch. She lay on her side, nestling against John's body, spooning.

"Did you just call me honey?" he whispered into her hair when all was quiet. "And sweetie?"

"You're still half asleep. You must have heard wrong."

"Right," he said on a yawn. "Goodnight, sugar lips."

"Goodnight, hot stuff," she whispered back, smiling contentedly as she closed her eyes.

Zoe lay partially awake in his arms, pondering the few short hours of the past evening. Sighing she snuggled deeper into his warm body. She let the sound of his deep breathing, the huff of his breath in her hair, and the syncopated beating of his heart lull her to sleep.

* * *

**AN: Kudos to anyone who can name the Series I was referring to above. Also, who was the actor that played AB and the actress that played Terri? And Heather, you can't play!**

**AN2: Saturday will be posted tomorrow! And then Sunday will be posted, yep, you guys are so smart, on Sunday!**


	2. Saturday

**Chapter 2: Saturday**

John woke with the sun in his face and spooning a warm body. Although the surroundings were unfamiliar to him, he wasn't concerned because he recognized the feel and smell of the body next to his. Zoe. He looked at her slumbering figure and smiled then gently tightened his arms around her.

John was amazed at how easily he and Zoe had fallen into this semblance of a relationship. He never thought for one minute that he would ever get past her prickly, standoffish facade. Once the walls came down, he was able to little by little see the real Zoe. He wasn't kidding himself that she would completely let her guard down, it wasn't in her nature, but he certainly felt a connection with her.

Gently, he extricated himself from the couch and went in search of sustenance.

* * *

Her boots clicked down the aisles of the grocery store as she picked up essentials for her kitchen. She wasn't here by choice.

_In attempting to prepare breakfast, John was aghast to find Zoe's kitchen seriously lacking. He had stared into her fridge and found nothing edible; just some moldy cheese, some over ripe vegetables, one egg, and milk that was way past its best by date. _

_"Do you eat?" He had asked clearly confused. How did she survive with no food in her kitchen?_

_"I'm barely here as it is, the last thing I need to come home to is rotting food," Zoe replied as she entered the kitchen freshly showered and dressed casually in a pair of jeans, a button down shirt and a pair of high heeled black boots. _

_John shook his head and grabbed her hand, heading towards the door. "We need to get some rations."_

_"Tell me we're not going to the Army Surplus store to get some MRE's." She groused._

_"We're going to the grocery store, smart ass."_

_"You want to go out in public? Together?" She wondered. Their "relationship" so far had been on the down low; primarily why they always met at hotels when they wanted to see each other._

_He shrugged, "Yes, we just take precautions . . . Let' make a stop at the Loft and I'll trade my suit for something else." _

_"Do you have anything else but the suits?"_

_"Sure, I still have the clothes Harold acquired for our stint in the 'burbs, add a baseball cap and some sun glasses, no one will know who I am or you for that matter." He said pointedly eyeing her casual, non-fixer attire. She pulled her hair into two loose braids and completed her ensemble with big Jackie-O type glasses and a cadet hat for good measure. _

Zoe shook her head eyeing their cart. "Think you have enough sodium infused processed food in there?"

"They taste good and," he replied. "They are efficient."

"Efficient?"

"Of course. Well not as efficient as MRE's, you don't even need to heat those up. But in a pinch, all you need for ramen noodles is boiled water," he said with a sly smile.

"Well, these are not making it into my apartment." She declared as she one by one returned the packages of Ramen Noodles to the shelves and the boxes of Hot Pockets to the freezer. "I am not aiding and abetting your coronary . . ."

"Let's just get French Toast Fixings as my friend Heather says. . . " Zoe suggested as she took their cart and zoomed away.

"Bread, eggs, and milk?" John asked, curious as he followed her to the dairy case and watched her pick up half a gallon of milk and some eggs.

"Yup, and you're making it, hot stuff." She quipped walking past him, patting his butt and heading towards the bakery for some bread.

"Do you have a grill?" he asked as he stopped to look at some steaks.

"Do I look like I have a grill? Oooh, are you going all Far Rockaway on me?" She pretended to sigh dreamily. "You looked real comfortable in front of that grill." Remembering that he did look rather comfortably domesticated and in her mind, it was damn appealing. "We can use the broiler in the oven can't we?"

"It's settled then, steaks for dinner," he replied grabbing the package of steaks and throwing it in the cart.

After they began walking again, John took her hand and offered a gentle squeeze.

She smiled at him as she picked up the rest of their dinner on their way toward the checkout. They got into the line and started unloading their groceries onto the conveyor belt.

"Someone is making French Toast," the cashier commented. "Is your husband good in the kitchen?"

John had the squirmy, deer-caught-in-the-headlights look that made Zoe want to laugh. "He's not my husband, I just found him wandering the aisles," Zoe said with a wide smile.

The cashier laughed. "That's just my luck, I usually find drunks wandering the aisles."

"Trust me, I understand bad luck," Zoe replied.

"Hon, finding a husband like that isn't bad luck." Apparently, the cashier still didn't believe that she and John weren't blissfully wed.

"You don't have to pick up after him, and he leaves the toilet seat up," Zoe remarked with a smirk, deciding to play along since whatever she said, the cashier wouldn't believe her anyway.

"I do not!" John cut in.

The cashier laughed. "You guys are so cute."

* * *

Sitting on the kitchen counter, flipping through her phone to see if anything was urgent, Zoe had to admit that seeing John in front of the oven making French toast was even more appealing than John in front of the grill. Cooking in jeans, that accentuated one of his best, in her opinion, assets, was certainly a sight to behold. It was a rare occasion to see John in anything but a suit, but the casual look suited him fine.

It didn't matter what he was cooking, all she knew was she would eat anything he put in front of her. Hell, he could have been cooking a shoe and she wouldn't have noticed.

He turned to look at her and gave her the grin that always made her heart beat just a little bit faster than normal.

_Bastard._

"What is taking so long?" She asked in that tight, cold voice that she now had difficulty pulling off in front of him, losing the effect when she couldn't help but quirk her lip.

Still grinning the grin that made her have lascivious thoughts, he turned and leaned against the counter, his arms crossed and looked directly at her.

"Perfection cannot be rushed . . ."

Rolling her eyes, she challenged, "You think they are that good? Ha!"

"You doubt my abilities?" He asked with mock incredulity.

"In the kitchen maybe . . ." She certainly didn't doubt his abilities in the bedroom, or the bath tub, or the . . .

"Care to put a wager on that?"

"On what?" She asked wearily.

"On whether or not you're going to make me eat my words," he replied casually. Though the word eat was said with just the right amount of emphasis to cause her nether regions to tighten in anticipation. What could she say? The damn vigilante was very talented . . . especially with his . . .

"And what…pray tell…would the wager be?" She asked without concern as she was enjoying the teasing banter they had fallen into.

John didn't flinch. His grin turned into a smirk as he stared into her eyes directly, and without missing a beat responded while walking towards her.

"The winner gets to decide the rest of the day's activities."

She was about to open her mouth when he stopped her by moving her legs apart on the counter and stepping in between them. "Ah Ah Ah…" He warned as he put a finger to her mouth.

"And the rest of the evening's festivities."

There was only one possible answer.

"I'm in," she said her eyes challenging him to put his money where his mouth was.

John smiled widely at her cockiness. Was it wrong of him to enjoy the task of proving her wrong? He didn't think so.

What he didn't expect was for her to give him that knowing smile as she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close.

His heart beat double time at the sight of it.

"Tell me why this isn't a win-win for me? Either way, I don't think I'll get the short end of the stick," she whispered in his ear, accentuating her comment with a flick of her tongue.

"You're not the only one with a win-win. Either way, I'm in." John triumphantly declared as he turned around and started plating the French toast.

"The French toast is ready, do you want syrup?"

"Why would I need syrup, hot stuff, you're talking to sugar lips over here. Plus, the syrup will mess with the true taste of the . . . fweh toh," Zoe finished just as John stuffed a piece of French toast in her mouth.

"Quit your yapping and stuff it, Shortie." John had finally had enough of her posturing, he waited confidently for the reaction he knew was coming.

Zoe chewed for a few seconds, paused, at the look of pure rapture on her face, John raised his arms up in the universal sign for "touchdown!"

* * *

"This is your choice for the rest of the day's activities?" Zoe asked, staring at the building in front of her.

He pulled on one braid and lifted her sunglasses up, "Of course, what did you think I meant," he asked coyly, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the little neighborhood bookstore.

* * *

They had a perfect dinner to end their perfectly "normal" day. Who knew that it was possible to do normal? If anyone had told him that he would fall asleep watching TV with Zoe on a Friday night, he would have thought they were insane. John never just watched TV, neither did Zoe. They were both too busy with what they did to even consider just hanging out.

Had that same person told him that he would spend Saturday at the grocery store, making French toast, spending two hours at a bookstore and then having a perfectly "normal" dinner at home, he would have called that person certifiable. It had been so long since he had been able to make dinner, let alone sit down and enjoy it. His lifestyle hadn't lent itself to relaxing evening dinners or lazy evenings watching TV. But he found it a surprise that his lifestyle allowed it once in awhile. Taking the proper precautions allowed John and Zoe to experience a relatively normal weekend. He knew this couldn't happen every weekend. It just wasn't going to happen in this lifetime. But, with a little planning and effort, it was possible.

John watched in awe as Zoe Morgan, Crisis Manager, Fixer, probably one of the most influential women in New York City, completed an honest to goodness domestic chore. She was doing the dishes. She had insisted that since he had slaved over their dinner, it was only fair that she clean up. And damn it, did it have to look so right?

John slipped up behind Zoe as she was rinsing the dinner dishes.

Zoe jumped and let out a startled gasp, "John!" She froze as he put his arms around her. "What are you doing?"

The light brush of his lips against her neck was all it took for every nerve in her body to be tantalized.

He murmured against the pulse at her neck, "Do I have to spell it out?"

Zoe could feel the heat from his body. She was ready this time and wasn't surprised when he kissed her ear and gently nipped it. "I . . . um . . . guess . . . you . . . um . . . do?"

Her confusing question made him smile. "Let me show you," he said , his breath was warm on her skin, his hands moved to the front of her shirt and started unbuttoning each and every button with slow, methodical, precision. When all the buttons were free, he slowly pulled her shirt from the waistband of her jeans, down her arms and tossed it to the kitchen floor.

She laid her hands over his marauding ones, leading them to where she wanted them. "Hmm, I think I get it now," she said impishly.

"I knew it wouldn't take long," he replied as he gently pressed her into the sink, lodging his leg between hers and pushing them apart as one of his hands rested on her stomach where he traced little circles there; his other hand shifted up to cup her breast through her bra, causing her breath to hitch.

"Uhm, John . . . let's . . . ah . . . take . . . this . . . um . . . elsewhere . . . " she suggested, her breath hitching once more as his hands were doing wondrous things to her breasts. Quickly turning the water off, she turned around and placed her palms on his chest and gently walked him backwards, out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into her bedroom. Once they were close to her bed she shoved him hard and followed him down.

Intensely aware that she was sitting on his groin, she deliberately and methodically took her time with the buttons on his shirt. By the feel of things, it wasn't particularly comfortable for him. Slipping open another button, Zoe purposefully shifted, settling herself down more firmly, making John gasp and her smile.

"You're killing me," he said his jaw clenched.

She tugged at his shirt until it came free of his jeans. "Turnabout is fair play," she said, shifting on him, rocking against him. Zoe parted his shirt completely and deliberately ran her hands over his chest. Lord, he felt wonderful. She felt his tightening response as she trailed her finger along his skin, tracing down over his stomach.

John's hands were gripping the bedspread as he thought to himself, _When did I lose control of this situation. _Admitting to himself that Zoe was very good at turning the tables and somehow always ending up on top.

Continuing with her arduous yet pleasurable task of torturing John, she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his jeans, rubbing them back and forth, wrenching another stifled gasp from him.

Zoe moved on to work on John's jeans, as she scooted down onto his thighs. Unzipping his fly, she flattened her hands against his belly then slid them inside his boxers. Her hands explored and he closed his eyes, drawing a shuddering breath into his lungs. "What did I tell you John? I didn't get the short end of the stick," she said with a smirk.

"Jesus, Zoe." By that point, John was spouting gibberish. Zoe felt a flash of pleasure at the power she had over him.

Wanting to take some control back, he pushed himself to a sitting position that made them equals. She slid onto his lap as her legs wrapped around his hips. He palmed the back of her head as their lips met. Heat rose in their bodies and sparked every nerve ending. Parting her mouth, she sighed into his.

Zoe pushed the shirt off his shoulders urging him to shake it off. She relished the skin on skin contact when his hands finally returned to her body, feeling the heat and sizzle of every touch.

His eager hands cupped her breasts through her bra. Wanting to grant him full access, she reached behind her, yanking on the clasp until she was free. Zoe could think of nothing else but the feel of his hands and his mouth on her neck, her breasts, everywhere.

"You're beautiful," John whispered against her skin. "So beautiful."

"I know you are but what am I?" Zoe responded, laughing a little at the short trip back to childhood. Trying to tell him that she thought he was beautiful too. His lips connected with hers again as he ground his pelvis against hers, seeking a release for his body that he had to hold in check.

Realizing that they both still had their jeans on, Zoe whispered, her lips and tongue teasing his earlobe even as her hips continued to press against his, "John, we're too old to dry hump like teenagers."

John's laugh morphed into a groan as she pushed him on his back and started tugging his jeans off. The tugging and the pulling shot waves of pleasure through him. She quickly dispensed with her jeans and underwear and slowly kissed her way back up John's body, paying special attention certain key parts.

Reaching her ultimate destination, she pressed her body, full-length, against his feeling his heartbeat reverberate in his chest as she laid her cheek against him. His chest crisscrossed with scars from another place and time. John pulled her knees up to bracket his hips as he encouraged her to straddle him again.

His calloused fingers traced a line from under her arm to the bottom of her hip as his pliant lips kissed her collarbone. Moving his attention to her lips, his mouth took hers solidifying their connection. He roamed her body with his strong hands; hands that had at one time inflicted injury, pain, and death, now only conveyed tenderness.

In one swift motion, John lifted her and switched their positions. He lowered himself to her and carefully slipped a leg between hers and eased inside. His body trembled and then the gentleness ended as he moved over and over while she sighed and asked for more. Beneath her kneading hands, his muscles were hard and tense as he held himself back.

Zoe smiled against his shoulder as the feel of him took over her every impulse, until she could do nothing but gasp his name as she exploded and shattered into pieces, giving him his cue.

With a harsh cry, he let go. And in the midst of his own pleasure he sought her mouth again, his kisses hard and hot. Though still breathless, John didn't withdraw from her. Into her ear, he whispered, "touchdown!"

They fell asleep in between bouts of laughter.


	3. Sunday

**Chapter 3: Sunday**

Zoe woke to see the morning sun trickling through the blinds. John lay behind her, one heavy arm draped over her waist, his breath warm on her shoulder. She lay there for a moment, feeling so . . . content, waking up with him beside her. Almost as soon as she woke, John seemed to sense it and stirred, pulling her close before his eyes were even open. She turned over to look at him and realized that he was relaxed with her, and had been all weekend.

She slid her hand over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, and the strong, steady beat of his heart. Would they be as lucky today as they had been the past two days and neither of their phones would ring? She could only hope so. Feeling a nudge of greeting at her thigh, inviting her touch, she obligingly slipped her hand beneath the covers to envelop him. "Well, good morning to you John," she murmured as she kissed his shoulder.

"Zoe," he replied as he laid his hands on her hips, rolled on his back taking her with him. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, both hands touching and kneading her bottom as she slowly and gently took him in. Zoe loved mornings like this, when she was still drowsy and languid, when time didn't seem to matter and it was enough just to lie there and hold him with her body. Almost. Eventually, they had to move and at the first stroke, the band that had held their self-control in check broke. Their movements became more frantic and desperate as they sought their release. Her release came first leaving her collapsed on his chest; he then rolled over with her and found his own.

* * *

The sound of John Lee Hooker, wafted through the apartment. After lunching on pasta and sipping a good wine, John sat on the couch reading "The Art of War", a book he'd been meaning to re-read ever since he had helped Darren McGrady find out who killed his brother. Zoe was comfortably lounging on the couch with her back to one of the arms and her feet on John's lap, reading the New York Times.

"So, do you think our respite is over?" Zoe asked as she looked over the paper.

John sighed and put his book aside. "We're about due don't you think? Two days without the phone ringing for either one of us?"

She nodded and put her paper away as well and confessed. "I've never had a weekend like this before."

"So, having a hot stud at your beck and call all weekend is a new experience for you?" He teased.

She lowered her eyes and, with a hesitant smile, mumbled, "You know that's not what I mean."

John did know because weekends like this were uncommon and valuable; having not had a relaxing weekend doing absolutely nothing in God knows how long. He'd never experienced watching TV all night with a woman then falling asleep on her couch. Never made a woman breakfast then sit and enjoy it with her. Never spent two wonderful hours at a bookstore; looking for books that took his fancy and watching her run her hands through bookshelves with this look of awe in her face. It had been a long time since he had experienced a woman doing things for him and with him. He'd lived his adult life focusing on others, their safety, their demise, or serving his country. It felt wonderful to once in a while think about nothing else but himself and to not have someone demand his attention and protection.

"I do know what you mean Zoe," John said pulling her close and cupping her face. "This weekend taught me that it is possible to have "normal" as long as we're wise about it."

She smiled and took his hands in her own. "That it's okay to have lazy Friday nights doing absolutely nothing but watch TV and mock unrealistic TV shows."

He nodded. "That it's okay to not worry about anyone else but ourselves on a Saturday, go grocery shopping, tease each other, talk to each other, and make love."

She sighed. "And that it's okay to wish the weekend wouldn't end and that the phone doesn't ever ring to call either one of us away?"

He hugged her close. "Yeah, it's okay to feel that way," he said knowing that they both understood the life that they had chosen. That they would make this work, with enough effort and dedication, this could work.


End file.
